


KHR! Fic Amnesty Collection

by alykapedia



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Gen, Not Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 06:49:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 10,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16529516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alykapedia/pseuds/alykapedia
Summary: abandoned fic ideas





	1. bella notte (805986)

**Author's Note:**

> AMNESTY THESE FIC IDEAS AS IF I WERE TO DIE!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so i think this was for a very convoluted idea where gokudera has to marry haru?? for like,,,mafia reasons, and UH yamamoto is decidedly not happy about it. no one is happy about it. why did i write this omg

_“Do you Luciano Bianchi, take this woman whose hand you now hold, to be your true and wedded wife—“_

This is how the world ends.

_“I do.”_

It’s weird, because you somehow imagined the end of the world to be more dramatic than this. You imagined that there would be fire, screaming, bloodshed and death. You’ve been through hell and back so you think you know better than anyone else what to expect. You imagined death closing upon you like a lover, swallowing down your scream with its lips over yours, sucking out every single drop of life from your scarred soul.

_“And do you Haru Miura, take this man who now holds your hand, to be your true and wedded husband—“_

You never imagined the end to be a black-tie affair inside a hundred-year-old cathedral.

_“I do.”_

You never expected a wedding, _his wedding_ , of all things.

_“—and with the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”_

And perhaps the incongruity of it all is the worst thing about it, because he was _yours_ and you were _his_.

_“You may now kiss the bride.”_

He was never supposed to be _hers_.

 

.

 

_Palermo, Italia  
_ _Ten months ago_

“So what are you going to do, Don Vongola?” Bianchi, no, _Giada Bianchi_ asks, her voice reverberating inside Tsuna’s study. It’s peculiar, really, to look at the same woman who tried to kill him with poison cooking, who has become a sister to him over the years, and see her as a completely different person, an enemy even, probably. He guesses that’s how it goes in the Mafia, you can never know who you can trust until someone stabs you in the back.

Of course, Bianchi has yet to stab him in the back, but still, it’s the principle of the thing. Then again, Tsuna knows that Bianchi doesn’t like this either, if the downturn of her lips is any indication. But like many things in life, they have no choice but to do this; greater good and that entire ideal world crap people outside of the Mafia still believed in.

That Tsuna still believes in.

But that’s Tsuna, and Tsuna’s an idiot who never learns, so he doesn’t really count.

He breathes in and then out, throws a cautious glance over at Reborn who ignores him as usual, and says in no uncertain terms, “It’s not really my choice, is it? It is and will be Hayato’s choice, and whatever he decides will be what I will acknowledge.”

A sigh, a shrug, and _Giada_ melts off of Bianchi like a second skin.

“I thought so,” she mutters in a tone of someone resigned to their fate, “can’t you be the one to talk to Hayato, though?” She asks rather helplessly. She hates to be the harbinger of all bad things in Hayato’s life, her idiot brother doesn’t like her enough as it is.

“Nope,” Tsuna says cheerfully, flashing Bianchi a grin that simply asks for a poisoned cake to the face, “he may be my right-hand man, but he’s still your brother.”

Bianchi groans. “He’s going to disown me again.”

 

.

 

A stifling silence fills the room, blanketing its smoking remains with an almost deafening hush. There had been shouting and screaming earlier, all of their family’s skeletons kicked out of the closet, old scars forced open with sharp words and even sharper knives. All in all, it had been their usual heart-to-heart, up until the point when Hayato had slumped down against the miraculously still intact door and slid down to the floor, instead of storming out as he always does.

He hasn’t said a word since.

And it gnaws at Bianchi, because she knows how to deal with an angry Hayato—has spent most of the past decade dealing with an angry Hayato. She knows how to deal with his yelling and hurtful accusations, knows that he needs to scream and shout at someone and she’s long volunteered herself for the part.

Bianchi knows a lot of things, but what she doesn’t know is how to deal with a silent Hayato.

She thinks that she knew, once, when they were children and a permanent fixture by each other’s sides. When she was still Giada and he was still Luciano and there was no talk of mistresses and illegitimate children. When they believed that their _Papa_ could fix anything and the world was a much brighter place.

She doesn’t know how to deal with a silent Hayato, but Bianchi wants to try.

“Luciano,”

“Sorella, you know I don’t—I don’t want it.”

“I know. Which is why I’ll be the one succeeding Papa.”

“You can’t—“

“I can and I will. But that’s not the problem here. The other dons will be questioning your loyalty.”

“Vaffanculo. Fuck them. My loyalties lie with—“

“With Tsuna, I know. But the other capos would love to find a way to twist it around. Just wearing that ring is not enough.”

“What—What am I supposed to do?”

“Marriage.”

“What?”

“Marry into the Vongola. The other famiglia will honour it. We’re all traditionalists at heart and those old fools would never dare question something sanctified by Dio.”

“Who the hell am I going to marry?”

(mention something about bianchi knowing about yamamoto and gokudera’s thing. She doesn’t really like it, and has always disapproved.)

“Haru. She has a high-standing in the family, not to mention that the only alliance she has is with the Vongola.”

“I can’t—I can’t do that to her. Haru deserves better—gods—she deserves the best, Bianchi.”

“Haru’s a better person than you give her credit, fratello.”

“That’s—“

“I’m sure she can decide for herself what she deserves or not. Talk to her.”

“I’ll think about it.”

 

. 

 

“Are you going to tell me what crawled up your ass or am I going to have to guess? Was Takeshi too rough? Am I going to have to threaten him?”

“Oh my god, stop talking.” 

“Hey. What’s wrong? You know you can tell me anything right, Bakadera?”

“If I told you that I needed to marry you, what would you say?”

“I’d ask why, and then I’ll ask when because I’ve always wanted to be a spring bride.”

“Haru, I’m serious.”

“I am serious. Why, though? I thought you and Takeshi –“

“We’re not, it’s just sex.”

“Wow. Okay. But why?” (dera won’t answer) “Does it have anything to do with that meeting Tsuna had with the other capos?”

(Dera tells her. And then insert quote from that drawing I did. HAHAHA)

“I’m guessing Takeshi doesn’t know?”

“It’s best if not a lot of people know.”

“I still want a ring though. I’ll send you a link of that ring I like.”

“You’re serious?”

“As long as you buy me that wedding dress from Monique Lhullier’s latest collection.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Excuse you, I have a 4.0 GPA.”


	2. give me a light (805986)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorta companion thing to bella notte bc idk this was gonna be a thing but i've completely forgotten what i'm supposed to do with it

Hayato tastes like cigarette smoke and cherries.

He’s smoking a different brand this time, and it tastes _too sharp, too sweet, and too much_ ; a stark contrast to his usual menthol ones. Takeshi swipes a tongue at the roof of Hayato’s mouth, searching, yearning for the familiar taste of menthol, only to draw back as the tart aftertaste of cherries overwhelms his senses.

“What.” Hayato bites out in annoyance as he pulls away, all bruised lips and horrible attitude and sporting the usual look on his face when he’s dealing with Takeshi. Like he’s not sure whether to kiss him or kick him in the nuts.

“I don’t like cherries,” Takeshi says, lips ghosting over Hayato’s ear. “I like the menthol ones better.” He admits, and really, there’s a part of Takeshi that cringes at those words, because he shouldn’t be condoning the other man’s smoking habit just because he’s gotten addicted to the taste of menthol and Hayato’s mouth.

Hayato shrugs, making a pained noise in the back of his throat before pushing past Takeshi. “Sucks for you,” he says, making his way towards the door, signalling that this particular encounter was over, “Haru just bought a whole bunch.” Hayato says unapologetically, reminding Takeshi that despite everything, Gokudera Hayato will never be exclusively _his_.

 


	3. every so often, push your luck (1827-ish?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was supposed to be part of "100 rules to live by" and this was like,, rule #18 BECAUSE OF COURSE IT IS

Years of dealing with Hibari Kyouya has taught Sawada Tsunayoshi three things.

The first one is that Namimori is sacred; any attempts to sully its pristine alleys and streets will end with your blood spilt on those very same alleys and streets (which Hibari would naturally have you clean afterwards, because _littering is not allowed in Namimori, herbivore)._ Second, Hibari Kyouya will take responsibility over you if he thinks you are worth it (or a small, fluffy animal); up to this day, Tsuna has no idea if he was worth it or Hibari just considered him as a small, fluffy animal. And the third and last thing is that you should never ever test your luck against the man.

Lady Fortuna will lovingly kick you square in the ass if you do. Not to mention the fact that Hibari will bite you deader than a beached whale if you as so much as think about it.

But just because Tsuna has learned these things doesn’t mean that he actually puts them into practice.

Because, well, where would the fun be in that?

Plus, he was sort of bored.

He’d finally ( _finally!_ ) finished the mountain of paperwork Gokudera had dutifully delivered to his office earlier and there was only so much one could do until one resorted to bothering other people. And with the rest of his guardians off in missions, or in Mukuro’s case, a self-imposed vacation to the Bahamas, it was just about time for Tsuna to turn to Hibari in this time of great boredom.

At least he wasn’t bothering _Xanxus_.

(Over the years, Vongola Decimo has developed a death wish as big as Jupiter. Needless to say, it’s a really bad trait to have as a boss of an infamous Mafia family; Reborn constantly wonders where he went wrong.)

“What are you doing here.” It wasn’t even a question, just a statement of the blinding fact that Tsuna’s patent leather shoes and the rest of his being weren’t welcome inside Hibari’s office. Had he been, oh, about ten years younger, he would’ve stuttered out an apology and ran away, but as it stood, Tsuna only gave his Cloud guardian a beatific smile and closed the door behind him.

“I wanted to talk,” Tsuna said blithely, making himself comfortable on one of the ridiculously squishy armchairs Hibari kept in his office; he made a mental note to ask Kusakabe later where they got them, he wanted one in his office. “So,” the Vongola Don started, ignoring the withering glare Hibari was sending his way, “how are you, Hibari-san?”

A dark look that said something along the lines of _are you fucking kidding me_ appeared on Hibari’s face. Tsuna suddenly wished he’d brought a camera with him. “Get. Out.” Hibari ground out through gritted teeth, as if he was physically stopping himself from defenestrating Tsuna.

Tsuna had to commend his effort, if anything. “ _But Hibari-san_.” He’d spent enough time with Lambo to work out how to whine most efficiently, and his long (and fruitless) practices with Reborn paid off it seemed, if the subtle twitching of his Cloud’s eyebrow was of any indication.

“Out,” Hibari repeated in a tone that brooked no arguments, but of course, Tsuna was having none of that and proceeded to test how thin he can stretch the other man’s patience until a tonfa was shoved down his throat. (And no, shut up, that wasn’t an indication of his latent homosexual desires for Hibari Kyouya.)

“Hibari-san.”

If Hibari Kyouya had been a lesser man, he probably would’ve sighed and rolled his eyes. But Hibari Kyouya was not a lesser man, so instead he settled on a single raised eyebrow that spoke volumes of his righteous annoyance. “Tsunayoshi. No.”

“Oh come on, _Kyouya_.”

The look on Hibari’s—no, Kyouya’s—face looked as if it had been carved from stone.

“ _What_ ,” Kyouya started, voice practically shaking with barely-restrained fury, “ _did you just call me?_ ”

 


	4. use your seatbelts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also a part of the "100 rules to live by" thing 
> 
> IDK i like the idea of car chases

Car chases, Tsuna decided, were definitely not his thing. He’d rather go one-on-one with Hibari-freaking-Kyouya than to spend another minute strapped inside the deathtrap known as Gokudera Hayato’s red Maserati. Of course, the other occupants of the banged-up _Quattroporte_ —Yamamoto, Ryohei, and obviously, Gokudera,—seemed to think otherwise.

Because the Vongola’s upper echelon never got to partake in car chases as much as the other members of the famiglia (they were always busy with other things, and well, too thorough with their job that there really wasn’t anyone left alive to give chase afterwards), so there was no way in hell that they were going to let this chance pass.

“TAKE THAT MOTHERFUCKER!” Gokudera hollered from behind the wheel as one of the cars that had been following them crashed into a sixteen-wheeler.

 _That’s one down, and oh, five more to go,_ Vongola Decimo thought tiredly as they took a sharp turn to avoid the barrage of bullets—one of the cars had a semi-automatic machine gun—and Tsuna wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep. He also wanted nothing more than to just get to level ground and made a mental note to never ever step into a vehicle driven by any of his guardians.

Another explosion sounded from behind them, followed by Ryohei’s excited shout of: “EXTREME HEADSHOT!” Tsuna’s Sun Guardian currently had half of his body exposed to the outside, having been tasked by Gokudera to _get rid of the fucking motherfuckers following us_.


	5. battle start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unfinished chapter 5 for Operation: LAL HAHA jfc

There are parties. 

And then there are Vongola Parties(!). 

If you ever have the chance to choose, never pick the Vongola Parties(!). 

Normal parties are the bomb. They're awesome and no one gets hurt. (And no one ever points a flaming gun at you while you're trying to sing "I Will Survive"  _Jesus-fucking-Christ, Xanxus, wait for your fucking turn!_ ) Your liver, your lungs, and your heart, hell, your entire existence will thank you if you never ever pick the Vongola Party(!) route. 

But of course, if you happen to like poison in your punch (your cake, your hors d'oeuvre, your plate, your chair), flaming animals that try and claw your face off, pineapple-shaped illusionists who have no concept of personal space whatsoever, sociopaths with oral fixations, time-traveling cows, exploding little girls, and the occasional stick of dynamite shoved up any and every available orifice, then by all means, go ahead and pick the Vongola Party(!).

Just don't say I didn't warn you. 

As things were, you actually don't have a choice but to pick the Vongola Party(!) route if you ever want this story to actually proceed and for Colonnello and Lal to finally run in slow motion towards each other. So let's now turn our attention from this ridiculously time-consuming and fourth-wall-breaking introduction to the Vongola Party(!) currently underway at some private Vongola property located at some undisclosed location that starts with a B and ends with an S. 

 

.

 

"So, let me get this straight."

Sawada Tsunayoshi—esteemed tenth boss of the Vongola Famiglia and one of those few (un)lucky people who always has to choose the Vongola Party(!) route every single time—began, eyeing the group of people inside his makeshift office with barely-concealed trepidation. Luce, Verde, Skull, Mammon, Fon, and Tsuna's personal demon-tutor, Reborn, had somehow managed to simultaneously ambush him and commandeer the temporary office in a matter of minutes, making Tsuna feel just a tad bit threatened behind his desk as six pairs of eyes considered him with varying levels of emotions, ranging from sheer boredom to pure amusement.

"You're trying to get Colonnello and Lal together?" He finally asked the other occupants of the silent room, skepticism lacing every word, because  _wow_ , that plan was right next to  _let's have Mukuro sit beside Kyouya during meetings_  in complete and utter horribleness. 

(Just in case you were curious as to how  _that_  train wreck of a plan ended, let's just say that a certain Vongola boss may or may not have ended up with a dislodged shoulder during the whole debacle. Mukuro may or may not have lost an incisor, and Hibari may or may not have broken his nose. No one really wanted to talk about that particular incident and all medical records have been mysteriously erased from the face of the planet. The only evidence Tsuna has that it actually happened, and was not a very bad and very painful dream, was the very persistent ache on his right shoulder whenever it rained.) 

Luce smiled, bright blue eyes crinkling in absolute delight. "That's correct, Tsunayoshi-kun."

Tsuna bit his lip. "Luce-san, I don't mean to be rude or anything," he began, earning himself a disbelieving snort from Verde and a barely choked laugh from Skull, which he studiously ignored. He’d trained under _Reborn_ for heaven’s sake; Tsuna wasn’t going to falter unless the world was ending or his demon-tutor’s favorite Beretta (that shot _real bullets, not the Dying Will ones_ ) was pressing against his forehead. "But  _why_?" 

The shaman blinked slowly, once, twice, as if she couldn't quite comprehend as to why anyone would even feel the need to ask what was so painfully obvious. They may have overestimated the Vongola's hyperintuition if the young Decimo couldn't even see what was as clear as day.

"Because they're absolutely perfect for each other! Lal's definitely in love with Colonnello and vice versa." 

The older woman replied in the absolutely cheerful and determined tone of someone who clearly thought that Colonnello and Lal were _meant to be_ and who would stop at absolutely nothing to make that union, however unholy it might be (Tsuna shuddered to think of any potential offspring), come into fruition. If anything, Tsuna had to admire the older woman's determination, because from what he could see from the others' expressions, the sentiment was definitely not shared. (He wasn't sure about Fon though; the man hadn't stopped smiling since they got here. It was getting kinda creepy, to be completely honest.)

They also looked as if they'd heard this tirade one too many times already. 

"Don't you think so too, Tsunayoshi-kun?" 

"Er." No. No. Definitely not. He hastily swallowed down the loud _NO_ with corresponding arm movements because Luce was smiling at him too widely and too happily in a way that was definitely not natural. And gods, if that wasn't just scary, then Tsuna didn't know what was. Tsuna now understood why Takeshi and Hayato always looked slightly (read: very) uncomfortable whenever he started smiling his _business smile_ or what Haru may have aptly dubbed as  _Tsuna-san's super crazy psycho smile_.

Somewhere on his right, Reborn pointedly cleared his throat; catching his gaze and affording Tsuna a look that said something along the lines of  _just say yes and get it over with, Dame-Tsuna_.

So Tsuna did.

"Yeah, of course, yes, they're...perfect—” _–ly insane._ “—for each other." 

The Arcobaleno boss’ smile could have lit up an entire galaxy with its brightness and Tsuna swore his face was developing a cramp just by watching the woman smile. “I’m glad you understand,” Luce said, her tone obviously filled with dark undertones of _because if you didn’t then I would have been forced to do something incredibly drastic_. “I assume then that you will be helping us in our plan?”

As if Tsuna had any choice.

“I’m sure my guardians won’t mind,” Tsuna assured Luce, “but well…” It was a bit—Tsuna wasn’t sure what the right word was, impolite, _tasteless?_ – Especially since the party being held tonight was Chrome and Kyouya’s _engagement party._

(Yes, you read that right, and no, it’s not a typo.)

Or well, it was a celebration  _for_  the engagement seeing as his Cloud guardian would sooner bathe in mayonnaise than participate in, and Tsuna quotes,  _herbivoristic rituals_. (He’d been told by a hysterically laughing Mukuro that Kyouya had proposed in the middle of crushing some peon’s head, and Chrome who had been  _so surprised_ , lost control of an illusion and _accidentally_ sent the mastermind of the drug syndicate to _jump off a cliff_.) Chrome had been completely against the celebration too, preferring a small, family-only dinner instead, but Haru, Kyoko, Bianchi, and most importantly, Tsuna’s mom had  _insisted_  and no one had been brave enough to try and say no.

"Oh, don't worry," Luce suddenly quipped, apparently catching onto Tsuna's thought-process. "We'll be absolutely discreet about it. We wouldn't want to interfere with the festivities after all." Her smile receded to something more natural (but still vaguely threatening). "Now, Tsunayoshi-kun, here's what I want you to do."

 

.

 

 

"You know, I can't tell if this plan is worse than that time we left them on a deserted island in the guise of training." Skull wondered aloud as they walked out of Vongola Decimo's temporary office, leaving the Japanese to gather his thoughts. Or possibly cry into a glass of bourbon, Decimo looked like the type. "Or that time we made Colonnello think that Lal was pregnant with Verde's demon child." 

Verde groaned, remembering the latter in particularly vivid detail. He’ll never ever admit it but he still has nightmares about it. Very vivid nightmares. "Don't remind me of that horrible fiasco." 

"Why? Because you almost pissed yourself trying to run away from Colonnello's _Maximum Burst_?" Viper asked, turning to face the bespectacled man with a shit-eating grin. “Or maybe it’s because you cried when Lal punched you in the groin?”

"Die in a fire."

If anything, Viper’s grin merely grew. “Only if I get to take you along with me,” the illusionist crooned sweetly.

“Children, please.” Fon interrupted before Verde could think of a witty rejoinder, ever the peacemaker. The Chinese made a thoughtful sound, tilting his head to the side in mock consideration before adding, “Although, for what it’s worth, I do think that nothing can quite compare to the damage Colonnello wrought when he thought Verde impregnated Lal.”

Viper let out a decidedly evil cackle as Fon finished with a deceptively angelic smile aimed at Verde, because Fon’s an asshole in sheep’s clothing. Everyone in the L’Prescetta Sette are, some of them—e.g. Fon, Luce—just hid it better, while some of them never bothered hiding it to begin with.

“Fuck you too, Fon.”

“I think I’ll pass,” Fon demurs with a flutter of his eyelashes because he was a fucking asshole and Verde was going to kill him in his sleep, see if he doesn’t. “I wouldn’t want to deprive Viper of the pleasure.” He adds serenely, mostly to make a point. It wouldn’t do to have them think he played favorites.

“Die in a ditch, Fon.”


	6. forget the cowboy, ride a horse (d18)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part of a larger universe with hipster!xanxus

**Forget the Cowboy, Ride a Horse**

 

Part I  
_tell me who your friends are (and I’ll tell you who you are)_

 

 

To be absolutely clear, Dino Chiavarone is not a creepy stalker.

 

He’s a perfectly respectable twenty-something with a Bachelor’s in Economics from the esteemed _Universit_ _á di Bologna_ , and still has the laurels as well as the diploma to prove it. He’s also from a very old and respectable family, not to mention blessed with stunningly good looks that’s been known to induce both men and women to fall to their knees literally and figuratively.

 

Not that he’s bragging of course.

 

Dino’s a perfectly humble and an all-around pleasant person with impressive credentials, and is definitely not a creepy stalker no matter what Rokudo Mukuro, resident deviant and actual stalker, may say otherwise.

 

Because, really, what he’s doing?

 

Definitely not stalking.

 

He just happens to be browsing one of his student’s—who, to be fair, he is Facebook friends with— albums and just so happens to be looking for a specific student he still hasn’t put a name to even after days of _looking._

 

(One of the student assistants at the registrar’s office caught him sneaking around the students’ records section before he can peruse the many folders and now he can never show his face there ever again. He’ll have to ask Squalo to act as his proxy during enrolment.)

 

“Are you seriously using Facebook to stalk your recent victim?” Squalo asks, peering at Dino’s laptop screen with narrowed eyes. “Wow, who’s Resting Bitch Face?”

 

Dino frowns because he kinda likes who Squalo has dubbed _Resting Bitch Face_ , and the frown deepens still when he turns his full attention to Squalo’s question. “Victim, really? Just which one of us here has actually been questioned by the police for being a suspected stalker?”

 

Squalo calmly flips him off.

 

“First of all, fuck you.” The long-haired man begins, using his middle finger to point obnoxiously at Dino. He flips the middle finger of his other hand up before continuing, “And secondly, they mistook me for someone else. I have never, and will never stalk anyone. Don’t lump me in with Rokudo and Yamamoto.” Squalo finishes with an offended sniff.

 

Raising a single blond eyebrow, Dino turns to Squalo, his face writ with confusion. “Wait, what? Yamamoto?”

 

“He’s stalking some asshole.” Squalo snorts, flipping his ridiculously long hair over a shoulder and sitting down next to Dino on the creaky but comfortable sofa. “And got a restraining order for his efforts.”

 

“Wow.”

 

A restraining order.

 

Even Mukuro hasn’t been issued an honest-to-God restraining order for all his harassment. But then again Mukuro _is_ stalking Tsuna, so Dino doubts that a restraining order is anywhere in Mukuro’s future, unless someone intervenes for Tsuna’s behalf. Dino kinda hopes that someone interferes for Tsuna’s sake.

 

Squalo shrugs expressively, plucking the laptop from Dino’s lap and balancing it precariously on his knees. “Hmm…Resting Bitch Face looks kinda familiar. What’s his name?”

 

“Um.” Dino says, because aside from the fact that Resting Bitch Face—great, now Squalo has him doing it too—is _not_ from the School of Economics (Dino’s sure he would have remembered _that_ face from all the classes he taught and those that Rinato did), he really hasn’t gleaned much information about the guy he’s investigating. The photos in his student’s albums mostly have candid and mostly stolen shots of _Resting Bitch Face_ in the background, as well as a whole lot of other students, and Dino hasn’t built up the courage to ask his student if they happen to know _Resting Bitch Face_ because it feels a bit too close to stalker territory.

 

And Dino is definitely not a stalker.

 

Shooting him a disgusted look, Squalo scoffs. “ _Per Dio_ , you don’t even know his name?!”

 

“Shut up, okay! I just saw him last week!” The blond splutters, a torrid blush alighting on his cheeks at Squalo’s outburst. It’s not as if Dino can just devote his entire time ~~stalking~~ investigating Resting Bitch Face; he still has a Master’s thesis to finish and Rinato wants him to add _more_ pages to his introduction because apparently, at twelve pages, it still looks glaringly anemic.

 

“Pathetic.” Squalo grouses, dumping the laptop back on Dino’s lap, earning a panicked squawk. “You should take some pointers from Rokudo and Yamamoto.”

 

“Wait, you said he looked familiar?” Dino asks after his heart stopped trying to jump out of his chest because of Squalo’s rough treatment of his laptop. (He’s yet to back-up the newest edits he’d done on his thesis and he thinks he might actually strangle Squalo with his own hair if worse comes to worst.)

 

Squalo hums before shrugging. “Well, yeah. He kinda looks like Fon. You didn’t notice?” The silver-haired Italian affords Dino a raised eyebrow, confused because he knows that Dino’s not that bad at faces and surely he has to have noticed—

 

“Who’s Fon?”

 

Or not.

 

Making a disbelieving sound, Squalo turns to Dino with an incredulous expression painted on his face. Seriously, Dino doesn’t remember? Squalo can’t believe he’s actual friends with the idiot sometimes.

 

“The tattoo artist? Gave you that tramp stamp last year? The one who did your nipple piercing?”

 

Dino only responds with an increasingly confused and chagrined noise, prompting Squalo to remember a few important details.

 

“Oh fuck,” Squalo mumbles, lips twisting into a grimace, “you were unconscious both times.” Not because Dino couldn’t take needles but mostly because the blond had been dead drunk and made bad choices in front of awful people he called friends. Squalo even remembers Rokudo taking a video of Dino getting the nipple piercing. “Huh. Okay, wait, I’m pretty sure I’m Facebook friends with him.”

 

Once again, the silver-haired Italian plucks the laptop from Dino’s lap and Dino can do nothing but let him because (1) he’s known Squalo since toddlerhood and has learned not to get in his way, (2) he only has the vaguest idea of what his friend is trying to achieve, and (3) he can’t believe he got a tramp stamp and a nipple piercing whilst unconscious.

 

Romario was going to judge him so hard when he (inevitably) finds out.

 

He prudently looks away when Squalo types in his password—for appearance’s sake because Dino obviously knows Squalo’s password and Squalo knows that he knows—and patiently waits as the other man hums what sounds like the beginnings of Bohemian Rhapsody. Dino’s trying not to get his hopes up as Squalo’s index finger glides through the touchpad, but well, it’d save him a lot of trouble i.e. sleepless nights, if Squalo can figure out Resting Bitch Face’s identity.

 

“Ha!” Squalo crows triumphantly, jabbing Dino with a sharp elbow. “Resting Bitch Face is Hibari Kyouya and Fon’s baby brother.” He says, clicking on a thumbnail and pushing at the screen so that Dino had a better view and lo and behold, there, on the screen was Resting Bitch Face— _Hibari Kyouya,_ he had a name _now_ —wearing a nurse’s uniform.

 

An actual one, not one of those flimsy, see-through things that Dino’s seen in porn. Not that the appropriate and starchy-looking uniform detracts from the very apparent fact that Hibari Kyouya was a very, very attractive young man. Nor does it lessen Dino’s sudden desire to see said uniform on his bedroom floor.

 

“He’s a nursing student,” Dino ends up saying, and he can practically hear Squalo roll his eyes scathingly.

 

Still, it at least explains why Dino doesn’t remember having glimpsed Hibari Kyouya anywhere near his familiar haunts. The School of Nursing was on the other side of the university from the School of Economics and it was highly unlikely that a nursing major would have any business hanging around this side of the campus. (And, okay, that never really stopped Mukuro from hounding Tsuna, but Mukuro is a special snowflake of the stalker variety.)

 

“So what are you gonna do now?” Squalo asks after a while of watching Dino flip through album after album. It seems that Fon—bless the man—had a brother complex the size of _Jupiter_ and with that came pictures that made a part of Dino’s psyche shiver with unadulterated glee. The festival pictures are his current favorites.

 

Blinking away from his screen, Dino lets out a soft hum. “I dunno? I just wanted to find out who he is. Maybe I’ll add him on Facebook.” He says as nonchalantly as he can, ignoring the judgment Squalo’s perfectly shaped eyebrow levels him with.

 

Whatever. Squalo can judge all he wants.

 

It’s not as if Dino’s a stalker. He’s put a name to a face and he’s okay with that. _Perfectly satisfied_. He’s not going to do anything else apart from probably friending Hibari Kyouya on Facebook if they had a reasonable number of mutual friends so it doesn’t look weird and stalker-y because Dino is definitely not a stalker. Nope. Definitely not.

 

//

 

Obviously, the next day finds Dino casually loitering around the School of Nursing’s library.

 

 _Casually_.

 

Yeah. Okay. Let’s be real.

 

He’s loitering around not-so casually and sticking out like a sore thumb in a sea of white uniforms. It’s admittedly not one of his best ideas thus far and he can feel Squalo’s eyebrow of judgment weighing heavily on his shoulders.

 

“Chiavarone!” A woman’s voice hisses out from behind the shelves he’d been leaning against and Dino has to fight the urge to duck and take cover because he _knows_ that _voice_ and that _voice_ means certain humiliation. _Or bodily harm_ , a voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Rinato quips as a hand curls around his arm. “What on earth are you doing here?” Lal Mirch asks, eyebrows cocked in suspicion as she looks up at him with a frown.

 

Forcing on a smile, Dino shrugs and prays to whatever deity up there that his smile doesn’t look like a grimace. Although, judging from the unimpressed look on Lal’s face, it probably didn’t work. “Reading? It _is_ a library.” He blurts out, never mind the fact that he’s not actually reading anything.

 

“This is the nursing library. You major in economics.” Lal deadpans.

 

“It’s always good to cultivate multiple interests?“ He doesn’t mean for it to sound like a question but Lal is terrifying and Dino is but a mere mortal man. The many tales he’s heard about the woman, coupled with the fact that she and his demon thesis adviser apparently grew up together, do nothing but make him fear for his life even more. “I mean, Rinato’s always telling me to broaden my horizons and such.”

 

Placing her hands on her hips, Lal gives him a look that says something along the lines of _I wasn’t born yesterday, Chiavarone, try again._

 

Dino takes a deep, steadying breath before blurting out, “I’m looking for someone.” He might as well come clean, Lal doesn’t seem the type to be swayed by anything and she does teach nursing classes, so.

 

“Aren’t we all,” Lal drawls, lips twisting.

 

“It’s—his name’s Hibari Kyouya.“ Dino mumbles hastily, but not hastily enough because as soon as the name leaves his lips, a bevy of _very interested_ whispering follows its wake. Of course the _nursing students_ inside the _nursing library_ would be familiar with _Hibari Kyouya who is obviously a nursing student_. God, he’s an idiot.

 

Ignoring the gazes of anyone and everyone within hearing distance (which turns out to be almost the entire library, _holy fuck_ ), Dino ducks down to gaze pleadingly at Lal. _Please don’t tell Rinato, please, please, please don’t tell Rinato about this he will never let me live this down,_ he thinks desperately, trying to awaken some latent (and totally nonexistent) telepathic powers as Lal looks at him impassively. _Per Dio_ , the woman’s poker face was worse than Rinato’s. At least his soulless demon of an adviser had the tendency to smirk evilly from time to time when he’s planning another revision of Dino’s thesis, but Lal is a blank wall, a _tabula rasa_ , a—

 

“You _are_ aware that Hibari’s the national champion in MMA and will destroy you if you as so much breathe the same air, right?” The woman asks and Dino’s entire thought process screeches to a halt, because no, no, he did not know that little tidbit.

 

Although, huh, it does explain the glimpse he had of a shirtless Hibari inside a dojo of sorts before Squalo had stolen his laptop and changed his Facebook password, because he, and Dino quotes, _refuses to be complicit to Dino’s stalking tendencies_ despite the fact that Dino is _not_ a stalker. Whatever. See if Dino ever helps him straighten his hair again.

 

Lal lets out a soft sigh, muttering something under her breath too low for Dino to hear. “He’s on rotation at the teaching hospital.” She says before making a dismissive gesture with her hand.

 

“Ah. Thanks?”

 

Lal snorts, shaking her head.

 

“Don’t thank me yet.”  

 

//

 

“Going after undergrads again, Cavallone?” Mukuro plops down gracelessly on the seat next to him and Dino groans, because of course, Mukuro would know about his latest slip-up. He really, really hates the gossip network here at Tokyo U, and he tells Mukuro so.

 

“This school is full of horrible gossips.”

 

“Oh please, you were totally lauding the scuttlebutt during the Science Faculty debacle last year, Cavallone.”

 

“Stop calling me that! Did you know that one of my students actually put my surname down as _Cavallone_ on a paper?” Dino moans, sinking into the couch and hoping it’ll swallow him whole. “I hate you, and for the record, he’s a senior and is doing clinical internship, so he’s not jailbait. And even if he was, I’m pretty sure he could take me.”

 

“The fact that you have to justify your latest conquest’s—wait,” Mukuro’s mouth opens and closes a few times before a decidedly evil smile unfurls on his lips. “Please tell me your latest conquest is Hibari Kyouya.”

 

“Oh god, please don’t tell you’ve slept with him.”

 

Mukuro smiles beatifically. “He’s a biter.” The smile grows wider still while Dino curses loudly. “And a paragon of safe sex, what with the whole being a nurse thing, so barebacking is out of the question.” He says pointedly because Dino, unfortunately, overshares too much when it comes to his kinks to the wrong friends (not that he has any right friends in the first place, because hello, his best friend is Squalo Superbia, Asshole Extraordinaire). “Also, he has an oral fixation the size of Russia. Gives the best and possibly angriest blowjobs. He’s in my top three. A+, but never again.”

 

Dino looks up from where he’d buried his face in his hands, because Mukuro may sleep around but he’s not the type to let a good lay just remain a singular event. “Why not?”

 

“He’s Nagi’s ex.”

 

“Ohmygod!”

 

“Wait, there’s more.” Mukuro grimaces. “He’s _the_ ex-boyfriend. They started dating 3rd year middle school and all through high school and eventually broke up when college started. Still not really sure on the why; Nagi refuses to tell me.”

 

“Why would you even have sex with your sister’s ex?!” Dino finally blusters out, aghast. He’d known the first time they’d met that Mukuro had perhaps an ounce of decency left (if Dino was feeling generous) in his body, but he’d also known that the man would kill for his younger sister if she asked him to.

 

“I didn’t know he was her ex-boyfriend at the time! I was drunk and he was totally wasted and it was probably one of the most awkward mornings ever because he recognized me and just kinda blanked. The sex was great but I have never regretted anything so bad in my life.” Mukuro confesses and well, coming from someone like Mukuro whose entire personality was basically making one bad choice after another just for the hell of it, this was saying something.

 

“Per Dio, she must’ve been so pissed.”

 

“She disowned me. Wouldn’t speak to me for an entire year. The only reason she took me back was that they somehow started talking again and now Kyouya has a standing invitation for dinner.”

 

“So they’re back together?”

 

“Nah. They’re just, I’m not really sure, friends?”

 

“So…you don’t know why they broke up?”

 

“No, she wouldn’t say. Don’t even think about asking her about him, she still gets a bit misty-eyed when the breakup is brought up.”

 

“I wasn’t going to, geez! I’m not some asshole.”

 

(ORRRR dino goes to the tattoo parlor with yama HAHAHAHA HORRIBLE FRIENDS YES. And sees reborn and reborn’s all. Sup. And dino didn’t know????? Ohhh skull works at the tat parlor hehehe)

Part II  
Great Eggspectations (and Good Vibrations)

 

“What’s the problem?”

 

“Uh—it’s kinda um, awkward.”

 

“Right. Mukuro?”

 

“Oh no, he’s gonna have to explain this himself.”

 

“Ohmygod, Mukuro! Okay, okay, it’s just.” “Ihaveaneggvibratorstuckinsidemyass.”

 

“You have a what.”

 

“An. Egg vibrator stuck in my ass. I can’t take it out and it’s still vibrating.”

 

“Take a number and fill this up. I’ll have someone assist you shortly.”

 

//

 

 

Part III  
Ride ‘Em, Cowboy

 

 


	7. kimono

(Featuring impromptu Vongola war games a.k.a every man for himself. P much a more bloodthirsty version of tag. Only with real bullets because how will you ever learn? The main objective is to get to the main floor or take a potshot at Reborn. No one has actually won yet. Tsuna and his guardians nearly won during the 2015 new year's eve party. But then Gokudera pushed Hibari down the stairs (accidentally on purpose).

 

As the boss of an infamous and powerful Mafia family, there are small sacrifices that Sawada Tsunayoshi—esteemed Tenth boss of the _Vongola Famiglia_ and third most eligible bachelor(1) in the _Cosa Nostra_ according to Fuuta’s most recent rankings—has to make. Like accepting the fact that he will either die of a bullet to the head (courtesy of his personal demon tutor/advisor) or a lung disease (courtesy of his right-hand man’s second-hand smoke), or submitting himself to a fate of insane guardians forever and ever amen, so help him God.

 

Tsuna has also learned to accept over time and countless visits to the infirmary that he will always and forevermore be prey to his famigilia’s peculiarities and clothing preferences. Like the fact that because Hibari Kyouya is a picky bitch (Hayato’s words, _not his_ ), Tsuna and the rest of the peanut gallery have to have kimonos made if they want to set their filthy, herbivorous paws (Hibari’s _exact words_ ) on the Foundation’s part of the Vongola underground HQ.

 

Of course, the whole kimono business by itself isn't entirely problematic. It had, of course, brought along the usual list of grievances that Tsuna has learned to expect whenever his guardians are forced together without certain and mutual destruction looming over them.

 

(For the curious, this list of grievances includes, but is not limited to: fighting with box weapons, fighting with traditional(?) weapons, fighting with pretty much anything on hand, chain smoking, sexual harassment, mindfuckery to the highest degree, pedantry, name calling, and epic bitchfights.)

 

No, what is proving to be highly problematic are the kimono themselves.

 

Because these things, Tsuna had concluded five minutes earlier, are not meant for running. Or any kind of strenuous activity, for that matter.

 

(Not _that_ kind of strenuous activity. Perverts.)

 

"Damnit, Reborn!" Tsuna shrieks (like the prepubescent boy he still is, deep, deep down) as he tears through the corridors towards the elevator, hands fisted around slippery satin. He braves a glance over his shoulder and _yep_ , those are definitely Reborn's heat-seeking bullets.

 

"Tsunayoshi, hurry up!" Hibari barks from the elevator Chrome was thankfully keeping open.

 

Biting off the indignant _I'd be running faster if it wasn't for this stupid kimono_ , Tsuna skids to a stop inside the elevator just in time for Chrome to close the door and for the heat-seeking bullets to hit said door.

 

Thank god for reinforced steel.

 

He takes a deep, calming breath before slumping against the cool wall of the elevator. "Update?" Tsuna turns hopefully to Chrome, knowing that Hibari will only be helpful when he wants to, and judging from what is definitely a pout firmly in place on his Cloud’s face, Tsuna signs that off as a lost cause.

 

"Gokudera-kun's with Sasagawa-san and they're headed for the control room. While Yamamoto-kun's with Lambo-san." Chrome reports dutifully, resplendent in a midnight blue furisode fit for a queen. "Mukuro-sama's also heading upstairs using one of the east wing elevators."

 

“Okay,” Tsuna says. “Do we have contact with them?”

 

Chrome frowns, opens her mouth to say something, and then closes it again. She repeats the act two more times, telltale signs that she was having some sort of weird telepathic conversation with Mukuro. Chrome purses her lips, tilting her head to the side before letting out a soft, almost inaudible sigh. “Mukuro-sama says that he’ll be glad to _take over communications_.” There’s no inflection in Chrome’s voice, but Tsuna hears the emphasis loud and clear, leaving no doubt as to what Mukuro meant by _taking over_.

 

 _Yeah, wow, no,_ Tsuna grimaces, “um, please tell Mukuro thanks, but no. Just. Don’t.” He never wants a repeat of any of Mukuro’s attempts at fucking around with anyone’s head. Ever. (Especially after the last time involving Hibari in five-inch heels and a dress and easily one of the most horrifying experiences in Tsuna’s existence.)

 

Hibari scoffs expressively (and possibly glares at Tsuna very, very threateningly, which said Mafia boss is ignoring _resolutely_ ).

 

“Okay,” Tsuna begins, “we have no communication with the others.” A disadvantage if Tsuna ever saw one. The last time they’d been subject to Reborn’s _game of tag_ , Gokudera had been prepared with a slide presentation and detailed diagrams. They even had codenames. “So the only thing we can do is to trust that they’ll do whatever it is they’re supposed to do and that we’ll all make it out—“

 

The elevator shudders to a stop.

 

“—alive.”

 

Well.

 

There goes that plan.

 

“Kyouya,” Chrome prompts and Tsuna’s mind reels, because _since when did Chrome call Hibari by his first name?_ The last time Tsuna checked, Hibari was either _Hibari-san_ or _Cloud Man_ and not _Kyouya_.

 

 _When the hell did that happen?_ Tsuna thinks, befuddled, as he watches Hibari crouch slightly, his hands making a platform for Chrome to stand on as she fiddled with the elevator’s service hatch. While Chrome and Hibari aren’t exactly antagonistic (thank god for small mercies), Tsuna knows for a fact that they aren’t exactly buddy-buddy enough for Chrome to start using Hibari’s first name. And everyone and their mother knows that Hibari takes it as a personal insult when people call him by his first name that Tsuna had to literally fight tooth and nail to get that privilege so why—

 

“Tsunayoshi,” Hibari calls, impatience pouring off of every pore and Tsuna has to physically shake himself from his reverie. He looks up to see Chrome already peering down at them curiously from the service hatch and Hibari looking like he’s about ready to just throw Tsuna up if he didn’t move right this instant.

 

Not wanting to aggravate Hibari further, Tsuna quickly jumps up from the platform of his Cloud guardian’s hands and pulls himself up to the service hatch.

 

“Come on, boss.” Chrome motions towards the air vent to the right, already moving towards it and Tsuna can only watch in envy as she moves smoothly despite the heavy-looking furisode.

 

He crawls awkwardly after her and shudders at how filthy the kimono was going to be after a trip to the air vents. But well, needs must. Still, as far as air vents go, the one they’re currently crawling in doesn’t seem too bad. Not that Tsuna has a lot of experience crawling in air vents except for that one time at the Melone Base, but he wasn’t really paying too much attention to cleanliness at that time because of obvious reasons such as their impending doom and total annihilation.

 

“Chrome,”

 

 


	8. enter: yamamoto takeshi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unfinished chapter 8 for liebestraume

It all starts with a required humanities course (Humanities II: Art, Man, and Society) and a final exam that has him memorizing songs starting from the Renaissance, to the Romantic Era, up to Varèse’s electronic music. Yamamoto never imagined that he’d end up liking classical music and would continue to do so even after he’s received his grades and passed the course. But he did and he does and he has a special playlist arranged by musical period then by composer saved on his phone.

Not to mention a (not so) mysterious neighbor who plays a song for him every Wednesday afternoon.

“Out late, Gokudera?”

To be perfectly and completely clear, Yamamoto isn’t some creepy stalker. Really, he’s not. He’s an honest-to-god police officer who dutifully upholds the law, but he certainly feels like one when he surreptitiously peeks around the wall holding the mailboxes to see the entrance hall. Where, as evidenced by Mrs. Sawada’s voice, stood Yamamoto’s not-so-mysterious pianist.

“One of the undergrads knocked over two of our samples,” Gokudera tells Mrs. Sawada, a heavy-looking backpack slung over one shoulder, and— _oh my_ —glasses perched precariously on his nose. “So, I’m going back to do some damage control before Haru kills anyone.”

“Try not to kill anyone either.” Mrs. Sawada laughs, waving goodbye as Gokudera steps through the doorway. “I’d hate to lose a tenant.”

“No promises!”

When Gokudera’s scuffed sneakers finally disappear from view, Yamamoto slowly turns back to the mail in his hands, hoping against hope that Mrs. Sawada wouldn’t notice—

“You know, you could just talk to him normally, Takeshi.” 

Plastering on a completely nonchalant _who me?_ expression on his face that convinces absolutely no one, least of all his landlady, Yamamoto deftly closes his mailbox and saunters to the bottom of the winding staircase where Mrs. Sawada stood.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says airily, shuffling a couple of envelopes for show as he passes by. Oh, look, he got an invitation to Hibari’s wedding—Nagi must have included him in the guest list.

“Mrs. Hanamaki was complaining the other day how you beat her into making that boy soup when he fell ill,” she says conversationally, walking alongside him and Yamamoto snorts, because Mrs. Hanamaki isn’t the only one capable of cooking soup. “And you’re really not as subtle as you think when you’re slipping notes under his door.”

Yamamoto pales, because he’d been so sure that the hallways were empty whenever he slipped notes under Gokudera’s door, but apparently he’s no match for crafty old ladies.

“Talk to him. You two could use some friends.” She says, patting him on the shoulder in parting.

“I have friends!” He says indignantly, because he does! He has multitudes of work friends and he still kinds talks to his high school and university buddies! Yamamoto totally has friends! “I’m friends with your son!”

Mrs. Sawada just laughs and waves him off.

.

When he visits the preschool, Tsuna takes one look at him and says with a pleasant smile, “the old ladies are plotting against you, you know.”

“Should I be worried for my life?”

Laughing, Tsuna waves him over to where he’s perched on a bench, watching over his army of five-year-olds. “Possibly. I promise to testify in court against Mrs. Takizawa.”

“Not Mrs. Hanamaki?”

“Nah. Mrs. Hanamaki’s a sweetheart. It’s Mrs. Takizawa you have to look out for.”

 


	9. the scientific method (4851)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so proud of myself for still knowing that spanner/shouichi is 4851

**The Scientific Method**

_Formulation of the Hypothesis_

.

.

.

 

“Hey, Shouichi.”

 

Spanner mutters suddenly against his thigh, looking up at him in wide-eyed wonder; as if the other man had just seen the secrets of the entire universe whilst buried hilt deep inside of him. And wasn’t that just completely unfair? Because Shouichi can’t even think, much less speak coherently, hell, he can’t even breathe properly. His brain had long ago short-circuited and ceased all intelligent thought the moment Spanner started kissing him .Yet here Spanner is, apparently discovering the secrets of the universe in the middle of having _sex_.

 

 _What the fuck_.

 

“I want to try something.” The Italian continues, absently rotating his hips and hitting that spot inside Shouichi that has him seeing stars.

 

“R-Right now?” He gasps out, propping himself up on bony elbows and fighting the tempting urge to buck his hips. Shouichi feels too hot, too close, and he doesn’t understand how Spanner can still talk. “Can’t it wait?” He manages to ask, knowing it to be completely futile.

 

This won’t be the first time that Spanner had foregone sex for a new project, and the worst thing is that Shouichi can’t even fault him for it because he knows that he’ll probably do the same when placed in this kind of situation.

 

Still, it’s been five months since they’ve had sex, or anything that can be considered intimate for that matter, and Shouichi’s just a bit reluctant to give this up now when he was so, so close—

 

“No,” Spanner says, blunt as always, eyes staring at Shouichi as if he was a particularly interesting piece of machinery and the red-haired man fails to bite off the moan that trickles out of his swollen lips at _that_ mental image. Because okay, the thought of Spanner working him like one of his robots is surprisingly hot and _holy shit_ , Shouichi really needs to derail this train of thought _right now_.

 

“Then, can you— _ah_ —“ Shouichi keens, “pull out?”

 

Spanner blinks. “Why?”

 

“Why?” The red-haired man echoes and gods, Shouichi doesn’t really have the strength or the patience to deal with Spanner’s bullshit right now. “Aren’t you going to start on a new project?” Because unless Spanner’s new project involves fucking Shouichi senseless, which he highly doubts but secretly hopes for, then Spanner obviously had to pull out.

 

A slow smile melts into Spanner’s lips as the he trails his hands up to the backs of Shouichi’s knees, leaving goose bumps in their wake and sending a shiver of pleasure up his lover’s spine. “I am,” the blond assures, spreading Shouichi’s thighs further apart and leaning over so that he can feel the redhead’s eyelashes flutter against his cheek.

 

“Then what—“ Shouichi hiccups only to be cut off by Spanner’s chapped lips pressing against his and Shouichi’s world narrows into just Spanner’s lips and Spanner’s tongue and Spanner’s skin _and Spanner Spanner Spanner—_

“Shouichi’s my new project,” Spanner murmurs in Italian against his cheek and then he’s grinding and pushing and rutting against Shouichi with a renewed fervor, hips pistoning in and out, every sure glide dragging a whimper out of the redhead’s lips.

 

“W-What? Ah!”

 

“I noticed that we haven’t had much— _ah_ —intercourse in a while.”

 

It takes Shouichi a while to fully process the words, too lost in a haze of sensation and pleasure and gods, Spanner was filling him so perfectly.

 

“Of course, we can remedy that by having copious amounts of sex, but—“ “—I figured that it would be bet-better—“ “—to find a more _optimal_ way of doing it.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	10. that good omens crossover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which mukuro is a demon and hibari is an angel

There was a beam of light in the middle of Tsuna’s office.

 

It was pretty impressive, as far as beams of light went, and Tsuna would’ve ignored it if (1) there was a hole on the roof to cause aforementioned beam of light, (2) there was a light source to cause the beam of light, (3) actually, no, he wouldn’t have ignored it because there was an unexplainable beam of shining light in the middle of his goddamned office.

 

So of course, Tsuna does the most reasonable thing and freaks out.

 

“Tenth! What— _santa madre de dio_.” Gokudera could do nothing more than to stare slack jawed at the beam of light after almost falling down on his face as he rushed towards the office. The silver-haired Italian stole a look at Tsuna, only to be rewarded with the same expression of _what the flying fuck was going on here?!_

 

“We’re getting a call,” the horribly familiar voice of Rokudo Mukuro remarked from behind Tsuna and Gokudera, appearing as if from nowhere (and that was the case, because why run when you can just rematerialize?)

 

Gokudera’s eyebrows scrunched up unattractively, turning his attention towards the Mist guardian. “Call? What call? What are you talking about?”

 

“Mukuro—“

 

“ **Michael!** ”

 

Mukuro clicked his tongue, shoving his hands deep into his pockets before addressing the beam of light. “He’s not here.”

 

“ **Who is this?!** ” The beam of light demanded threateningly.

 

Mukuro yawned. “Guess who.”

 

“ **You dare mock the** —“

 

A noise not unlike static came from the beam of light and then— “ _Gabriel, just get down there will you? Stop trying to act like Metatron, it doesn’t work_.”

 

Gokudera and Tsuna shared a confused look.

 

“ **Shut up, Uriel.** ” The original voice, now identified as Gabriel scoffed.

 

Scratching the back of his neck, Mukuro let out a deep sigh before turning to the beam of light. “Hey Gabriel, Uriel?”

 

“ _Yes?”_

 

“ **Uriel! You can’t just** —“

 

“ _Yes?”_ Uriel repeated pointedly in blatant disregard for Gabriel.

 

“Yeah, so this is Belial, Prince of Hell.” Mukuro droned in a completely different tone, his voice echoing eerily inside the semicircular room and making the hairs on the back of Gokudera’s neck prickle. “Michael’s not here; he’s off smiting sinners or whatever it is you angels do for fun.”

 

A short pause before Uriel said, “ _Oh, I see. Can you tell him that he has to go back here soon? Routine checkups and all that, you know how it is.”_

 

Mukuro made a vague sound of assent.

 

“ **Uriel! You can’t just tell him that!”**

 

 _“Oh shush, it’s just Belial_.”

 

“ **Just Belial?! WHAT—“**

 

“ _Right, so um, just tell Michael to go back for a bit, okay? Thanks!_ ”

 

“Will do.”

 

And then the beam of light disappeared.

 

*****

 

“Rokudo!” Gokudera yelled, footfalls heavy against the carpeted hallway. “Rokudo, goddamnit, get back here!”

 

The Mist guardian loftily spun around on his heels, annoyance clearly visible on his face. “What do you want, Gokudera-kun?”

 

The consigliere growled, “what do you think, bastard?! An explanation! What the hell just happened back there?”

 

“I assure you that hell had nothing to do with that encounter,” Mukuro drawled, “we’re more dramatic hellfire than boring beams of light.”

 

“What?!”

 

“You’re smart, Gokudera Hayato. You can figure it out.” Heterochromatic eyes regarded him carefully before Mukuro shrugged, a smirk splitting his face into two. “The bible’s a good place to start. Try the Vulgate. Or, ah, the Lesser Key of Solomon works too.”

 

 

 

 

 


	11. letters from the venetian (cololal)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, okay so this. is the telenovela fic idea i had and is p much colonello and lal falling in love while colonello is like,,,in seminary JKSDHFJKASH THIS IS EVERY TRASHY ROMANTIC DRAMA COME TO LIFE AND I HATE TEENAGE!ME FOR COMING UP WITH THIS BULLSHIT

_Venezia_ is breathtakingly beautiful, and Lal never wants to leave.

 

She is eighteen, still young yet wise enough to not believe in the world too much.

 

She is eighteen and she has a gun strapped to her thigh underneath the layers of satin.

 

She is eighteen and she has never fallen in love.

 

Not _yet_ , at least.

.

.

.

 

“I am never going back to Palermo,” she declares as she steps out of the gondola, cheeks flushed and eyes bright with excitement. Behind her, she hears Luce laugh that tinkling laugh of hers that never fails to bring Lal’s heart at ease.

 

“Zio Lovino would kill me if I didn’t bring you home.” Luce tells her sternly, causing Lal to roll her eyes exasperatedly at the reminder of her father’s exaggerated threats. “Anyway, you’ll have two weeks to enjoy Venezia while I go on with my devotion.” Her friend continues eagerly, hooking an arm around her shoulder and steering her towards the busy streets of Venice. “Or you can join me in my novena to Santa Monica.”

 

Lal spares Luce with a small smile at the suggestion of joining the older woman in her prayers. “Luce, you know well enough that I don’t do well with novenas.” She says tiredly; she has never been very religious, finding the practices of the _Chiesa Cattolica Romana_ trite and tiresome. “Besides, I’ll be keeping an eye on your intended to make sure he doesn’t go around chasing skirts.”

 

“You give Reborn far too little credit.” Luce admonishes, defending her _fidanzato_.

 

“And you give him far too much.” She retorts back, scrunching her nose in distaste. “I will never know why you agreed to marry him, Luce, he is far too suspicious.”

 

“Says the daughter of the top supplier of firearms to the Cosa Nostra.”

 

“It’s not our business what our customers do with our products.” She recites the words her father has ingrained into her head ages ago, and Lal absently thinks that it is probably due to this motto that they were the favourite supplier of many Mafiosi.

 

Luce just laughs.

 

.

.

.

 

“Have you been waiting long, Reborn?” Luce asks, even as she presses a chaste kiss to the man’s cheek.

 

They are standing in front of an old convent whose name Lal has already forgotten. It is an austere place, made of lacklustre grey bricks and surrounded with harsh statues of saints she never bothered to pray to. It is a dark grey splotch on the otherwise colourful streets of Venezia and Lal feels every bit the frustrated painter, wanting nothing more than to remove this void of colour in her canvas.

 

Religion never fails to make everything dull, it seems.

 

“Not at all,” Reborn responds, his voice bringing her out from her reverie and she affords the man a scowl when she feels his dark eyes fall on her. “Buon giorno, Signorina Mirch,” the dark haired man greets, an amused twinkle in his eyes.

 

She snorts; crossing her arms across her chest and gives Reborn an unimpressed look. She doesn’t know what Luce sees in him, all long limbs and sardonic smiles; Lal wants nothing more than to push him into the nearest canal. “Reborn.”

 

“How cold,” Reborn chortles, “and here I thought you would be enjoying the sights of Venezia.”

 

“I was,” Lal replies, “until I saw your ugly mug, that is.”

 

“Is she always this charming, Reborn?” A new voice, a man’s voice comments bemusedly from somewhere behind Reborn and Lal positively bristles. She immediately does not like the speaker and would very much prefer to pull the trigger of her gun and shoot.

 

“Only when I’m conversing with idiots,” she easily snaps back. Lal’s always been easy to anger, easy to annoy, and according to Reborn, so amusingly easy to bait. She supposes that it comes with growing up in a large family consisting mostly of obnoxious and horribly numerous cousins and nephews.

 

The newcomer laughs too happily, too freely. It grates at her nerves.

 

“Unfortunately, she is,” Reborn replies with a long-suffering sigh, turning towards the unknown man, “but then again, that’s what makes her so endearing, really.”

 

“Stop teasing Lal, Reborn,” Luce warns, hooking an arm around Lal’s waist, a frown tugging at her plump lips before curling instead into a smile when blue eyes fall on the newcomer. “It’s been a while, Colonnello, or is it _Father Colonnello_ now?”

 

The newcomer, now identified as Colonnello laughs boisterously, stepping out of the shadows and Lal feels as if her breath is taken away from her. “Just Brother Colonnello; the Cardinal still deems me not ready to receive the Holy Orders.”


	12. cheque, please

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> or the five dates that Hibari and Chrome definitely did not go on because they weren't dating not at all whatever gave you that silly idea?

  * at a cafe in the Namimori shopping district




And then Chrome decides to bite the bullet, as they say, and marches decisively towards Hibari's table. She can feel the astonished looks from the other customers who had given the aloof teenager a wide berth, and it prickles at the back of her neck, as if telling her to turn around now. But, Chrome muses, she was already here and perhaps she wanted a confrontation with the mercuric Cloud after all. 

 

(wherein chrome grabs the bull by the horns, goes #yolo and confronts a wild hibari in a coffee shop. discovers that decimo's cloud may have a bit of sweet tooth and proceeds to do homework. hibari corrects said homework. all in all a productive day.)

 

(borne of the fact that chrome wants to order for herself. idk i just have a lot of chrome feels. and the obvs hibari escorts her home back to the sawada household because im just gonna assume she lives there now-nana is thrilled bc she's always wanted a daughter-because nami middle students shouldn't stay out past curfew.) 

 

  * at the aquarium




(reborn's idea of family bonding (sorta) kinda like the zoo episode but not really. tsuna as always gets riped into something ridiculous while everyone p much just does their own thing. chrome gets separated from the pack and encounters hibari. and they end up walking around together. chrome figures that they might as well and hibari just doesn't care.)

 

  * at the Jules Verne restaurant in Paris, France (during their first mission together)

  * at Takesushi 

  * at La Preferita in Palermo (Dino sees them and clues in on the fact that it is SO a date. "I'm so sorry, Kyouya. If I had known it was a date, I wouldn't have--" "It's not a date.") 





End file.
